A Moment's Weakness
by corneroffandom
Summary: Too overwhelmed to stay in the beach house, Emily turns to the one person she could always count on.


Everything about the beach house reminds her. Of vendettas with varying degrees of success, times in Daniel's arms when she would be thinking about Jack, and many bittersweet childhood memories with her dad and Sammy. She's the only one that remains; Daniel wants nothing more to do with her and, though she has a little hope that he'll understand, she's teetering on the brink of losing Jack too once she tells him the truth, which, really, how funny is _that?_

But as she stares blankly at the bed she'd shared with Daniel, she realizes she's not the only one left. She still has Nolan, and the longer she stays there, the more she wants to feel his arms around her again. Despite not wanting to seem weak, she knows if anyone won't hold it against her in the future, it'll be him and since the last time she'd felt safe at all was in that moment, when his arms were snugly around her, she wastes no more time.

She feels raw as soon as she arrives at his door, her eyes red and gritty. He takes one look at her and ushers her inside; he also showing the wounds of the past couple of days. Bruises and cuts and all she can think is _I caused this, I put him down this path._ It makes her feel even more empty. _Another casualty of war._ There had been more of those than she could've ever expected when they began: Jack and Declan, Charlotte and Nolan, the real Emily, so many people she can't fully wrap her head around it...

"C'mon," he says quietly, leading her to the couch. As she sinks down onto it, he drops down next to her with a worried frown. "What can I do for you?"

"I don't think anyone can," she says honestly, wanting so desperately to lean into his warmth but resisting.

"Maybe if you'd let me, I could," he whispers, brushing some hair out of her eyes. His touch is gentle, she knows what to expect from it. "Ems."

"Don't call me that," she breathes, just needing to feel like that little, innocent girl who was safe in her father's arms once more. "Nolan..."

He takes a breath, smiling softly at her. "Amanda." He hadn't called her that in a long time, since they'd first met, and as strange as it feels on his tongue, it seems to soothe her.

"Thank you." She _does_ look young, unkempt in this moment, messing with the sleeves of her sweater. He can't help himself, wanting to touch her, reassure himself that, after everything, she's still by his side. And so he does, a gentle press of his fingers to her shoulder before pulling back. She doesn't seem too thrilled when he moves away, however, and he pauses, watching her. "Don't-" She stops herself, looking frustrated.

"Alright," he says, not wanting to anger her. Not today. He's not in the mood to poke the sleeping giant. "Sorry, just... it's been a long couple of days. Where-"

Before he can get up off of the couch, though, she reaches out for him, her thin fingers tangling around his upper arm. "Don't let go." The words seem to surprise both of them and he sinks back down into the cushions hesitantly, staring at her. "Please." She never asks for human contact, _definitely_ never begs but she too has had a long day- month- year- life... so he reaches out for her, gently wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She fits perfectly against him, her breathing soft across his chest as she clings back to him. "Thank you." She's never shown gratitude to him _this_ often before and he would ordinarily be reveling in it, confident and smirking, but it's so unlike her that it's more unsettling than anything.

Even so, he keeps quiet, smoothing his fingers through her soft, blonde hair. When almost an hour's passed, her body sprawled out across his, he shifts to look at her. "Amanda." He wants to ask if she'd prefer to move, spend the night in the guest bedroom, but it only takes a moment for him to realize she's fast asleep. He freezes, not wanting to wake her up. "Alright," he whispers. "We'll stay here."

Thankfully the couch is highend, ridiculously comfortable- he had never seen the point of spending lots of money just for an unbearable death trap- so falling asleep on it is easy for him, even with all the aches and pains he too feels after the day's adventures. Emily sighs, leaning into him, and falls deeper into possibly the first fully restful sleep she'd had since the beginning of all of this.

Bright sunshine on his face is what eventually wakes him up, his fingers twitching against the soft skin beneath his hand. He's disoriented, uncertain where he's fallen asleep- and with who- this time, but when he looks down, memories come crashing to him- Emily- Amanda- coming to his rescue, getting kidnapped herself, just to free both of them. He smiles at her sleeping face for a moment, surprised by how almost _peaceful_ she looks, a lot of the tension fading away as she rests against him.

He hates moving but has to, knowing that the longer he stays in one place the worse he'll feel. Sure enough, as he gently pushes her back onto the couch cushions, his body wakes up with protests that leave him breathless and about ready to give up, stay in the relative safety of the couch. Only the fact that Amanda looks as beat up as he feels inspires him to continue moving, not wanting to appear weak should she wake up any time soon. He quietly pads through his house, wincing when each step opens up a fresh wave of pain within him.

Finding a warm, soft blanket, he returns to the living room and drapes it over her, brushing some of the hair out of her eyes as she shifts and moans. "S'ok, Amanda," he whispers to her. "You're safe." This seems to calm her as she relaxes once more, her hands balling up around the gentle fabric he'd covered her in.

He showers, closing his eyes against the almost rough pelting of the water against his sensitive body. When he reluctantly pulls himself from the spray and grabs his towel, making his way back to the bedroom, he drops onto the bed and leans forward, burying his face in his hands. He's glad that he and Amanda are both ok, but yet he feels unsettled also. Things are still up in the air, he's not even sure if Amanda is determined to get vengeance for her father or not. She's seemed so... unlike herself since the night before, with how everything played out yesterday and Daniel ending their engagement.

Steeling himself, he quickly gets dressed, not taking the usual time to ponder and pick out his outfits, eager to go check on Amanda and possibly find some way to distract her. His eyes fall on an unopened bottle of champagne and he picks it up, along with the glasses to go with. He had been keeping it for when Amanda had managed her revenge successfully but now, with so much going on all at once, he feels this is only right. She had given up her one chance at revenge against the White Haired Man, to honor her father, so when he holds the champagne out to her, unsurprised that she's awake and watching him as he walks out to join her a little bit later, he suggests, ignoring her teasing him for wanting to drink champagne at 9 in the morning, that they toast her father.

Her eyes soften and she quietly agrees, taking one of the flutes from him, echoing his words as they clink their glasses together. This madness is far from over, but for now, they're together, beat up but not destroyed. It's enough.


End file.
